


Once More With Feeling

by multifandommess



Category: South Park
Genre: AU where the attack on Canada actually started a war and wasn't just brushed under a rug lmao, Bittersweet Ending, But has spoilers for S21E07 Doubling Down onward, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, References to a few older episodes, Takes place post S21E09 Super Hard PCness, Time Travel, Underage Drinking, mainly You're Getting Old/Ass Burgers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandommess/pseuds/multifandommess
Summary: “Kyle fucked up.He never considered himself a perfect kid, but his heart was more or less always in the right place--but this time? This time, he fucked up badly, and everyone was paying the price.He really should have listened to Tweek.”Kyle makes a deal with Satan to go back in time so he can stop the war with Canada. Unable to interact with himself in the past as part of the deal, Kyle instead--for the first time in what seems like far too long--turns to Stan for help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in between S21E09 and S21E10 (or well, technically it took me two weeks to write but I started it literally right after episode 9 aired lmao), so it doesn't take anything that happens after episode 9 into account, and also I changed a few small parts from the episode to stretch it out a bit so forgive any inconsistencies or plot holes or anything pfft;; (Also I just googled the prayer, I'm hoping it's right and I mean no offense if I got it wrong;;)
> 
> I never posted this fic online (like pretty much every fic on this AO3 account) but I did share it in a few South Park discord servers a while back, so on the off chance this fic looks familiar to anyone that's why lmao
> 
> I'm also going to put the epilogue in its own separate chapter even though it's short, since the fic can be read with or without it

****Kyle fucked up.

He never considered himself a perfect kid, but his heart was more or less always in the right place--but this time? This time, he fucked up badly, and everyone was paying the price.

He really should have listened to Tweek.

It started with seeing the news, staring in horror at the television screen as it broadcast a missile being shot at Canada and the resulting destruction, thousands upon thousands of innocent people screaming as their lives were abruptly cut short. His memories after that were hazy from shock, but he vaguely recalled being pulled along at some point by someone and brought to a bomb shelter, where he stayed for days (or maybe it was weeks, it was hard to tell). Cut off from his friends and family, Kyle thought it would at least be for the best this way--maybe the Canadians would just come for him in retaliation, and leave everyone else alone so that no more innocent people would have to get hurt.

The first news that came over the old-fashioned radio that someone had gotten to pick up a signal on was about South Park, Colorado, and Kyle could feel his entire world crashing and burning around him as he listened to the crackling, barely-intelligible report.

“ _... 11:42 am, December… 2017, a bomb… small town in Colorado called South Park, where… no survivors--_ ”

Kyle could feel himself shutting down, the world around him growing hazy, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Everyone he knew and loved was dead, and it was all his fault.

* * *

It was funny: Kyle wanted nothing more than to die, yet it seemed as if fate was determined to keep him alive, possibly as some twisted form of penance for all the deaths he caused.

Even when the bomb shelter was raided by Canadian soldiers, even as people around him were being shot and killed, he somehow made it out of the shelter and off to relative safety with less injuries than anyone.

Everyone wanted to protect him because he was just a child. Kyle just wished they would treat him like the monster that he felt like he was.

Days passed into weeks, weeks to months, months to years. Running and hiding turned to fighting, and feelings were locked away as he went through the motions of surviving if only to further punish himself.

He didn't deserve to die, he decided. Death was an escape. He didn't deserve to be at peace, he deserved to suffer in this living hell.

Still, as hardened as he tried to pretend to be, the guilt still weighed heavily on his heart. The hardest times to stay alive weren't when he was adding to the long list of people whose lives he robbed, but at night when his body couldn't move anymore, barely allowing him to find somewhere relatively safe to hide before giving out on him in exhaustion.

He could hear their voices berating him, tearing him apart for his sins. He could see their faces--so young, all of them, despite himself only having aged by two years--staring at him in disappointment.

_You did this._

_You caused this war._

_You stole our futures._

_**You killed us.** _

Kyle found it harder and harder to open his eyes with each passing day, ignoring the dried tear tracks on his face as he dragged himself to his feet and kept moving.

* * *

It was on the third anniversary of the bombing of South Park that Kyle finally broke down.

Humorously enough, the date was just a coincidence--or perhaps some twisted form of fate, just like whatever it was that guided Kyle’s body towards the run-down synagogue in the distance. He hadn’t stepped foot in any place of worship in the entire three years of hellish war that had broken out, spreading from the Northern American continent to other continents around the world as countries became pressed to take sides.

It wasn’t all too surprising that there were few countries willing to take America’s side. Honestly, it was a wonder how the entire nation hadn’t been blown off the map entirely by this point with how many countries were against them, though it was certainly coming close to that point as every area Kyle passed through looked like it came straight out of an apocalyptic movie set.

Kyle wandered into the empty synagogue and into one of the pews, muscle memory that he didn’t even know he still had leading him into a kneeling position with his hands clasped in front of him.

He wasn’t even sure what he could say, though when he cycled through the prayers he could remember learning, he couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“ _Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam, hagomel lahayavim tovot, sheg'molani kol tov._ ”

The words were clunky on his tongue from lack of use, but what he lacked in fluidity he made up for in venom as he spat the prayer out mockingly.

_Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who bestows good things upon the unworthy, and has bestowed upon me every goodness._

A prayer thanking God for allowing him to survive. What cruel irony that his mind would choose to remember such a prayer out of all the ones he’d learned as a child.

“God doesn’t exist.” He wasn’t even sure why his hands were still clasped in front of him in prayer when he had no intentions of actually praying. “I always had my doubts, you know. Sometimes I thought he might be real, but this definitely proves it. There’s no such thing as God, because God would never let this happen. This war, this bloodshed, innocent people dying… what God would allow this?”

Kyle laughed bitterly, his nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood as he clenched his hands tightly.

“It’s funny. Even now, I kind of want someone to prove me wrong. I’m so pathetic.” He rose to his feet, his gaze drifting up to the synagogue’s ceiling. “If there’s anyone listening, any sort of higher power, then come on! Prove me wrong! Show me you exist!!”

He hadn’t realized he’d raised his voice until he heard his shouting reverberating off the walls in the empty building, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting, wandering, fighting for? Three years. Thirty-six months. One hundred fifty-six weeks. One thousand ninety-five days--and fuck, if I’d made it past the fourth grade I’d probably know how many hours, minutes, and seconds of suffering I’d been through too, but guess what?” He choked out another humorless laugh. “I didn’t, because I fucked that up! I fucked everything up!! So why am I still here? Why the fuck is a murderer allowed to wander freely when the people who actually deserved to live had their lives cut short? Where’s the justice in that? What, is my punishment just going to be wandering aimlessly for the rest of my life until I go insane? Well too-fucking-late, because my sanity died along with my family and friends!”

Kyle wandered up to the altar. “You want to know what I think of _God?_ Of the ‘Jewish’ _God_ and the ‘Christian’ _God_ and all the other stupid _Gods_ out there?” He grabbed one of the chairs off the altar and threw it at one of the stained glass windows, barely even feeling a flickering of satisfaction as the glass shattered. “Fuck you! Fuck all of you!”

He grabbed anything he could get his hands on, taking out years’ worth of pent-up frustration as he screamed and threw things until his hands were bleeding and his arms and legs gave out on him in exhaustion, sending him collapsing to his knees.

“Please, just let me die….” Kyle’s gaze fell to the floor as his shoulders sagged, his expression empty without any anger to drive him. “I’ve had enough, I can’t take this anymore….”

He knew it would be easy to end everything, and he’d thought about it on multiple occasions--all he had to do was pull out his gun, put it to his head, and pull the trigger--but every time he thought about it, he saw his parents’ and brother’s faces in his mind, looking at him in disapproval and disappointment, and he knew that they would never forgive him for taking the easy way out.

Not that they would ever forgive him for any of this, but there was a small part of him that hoped that if he suffered enough, they would eventually forgive him once his time finally came.

Kyle noticed the air shifting around him, and within seconds he had his gun out as he forced himself to his feet, looking around for the source of the disturbance.

“ ** _Kyle Broflovski._** ”

Kyle tensed, unsure of whether the spike of fear came from the sound of the dark voice ringing out from all around him, or the fact that the disembodied voice knew his name--but he was quick to push the fear aside as he narrowed his eyes.

“Who are you? Show yourself!”

Kyle was forced to shield his eyes as a sudden gust of wind blew through the synagogue, the smell of sulfur burning his nose and the sound of inhuman screeching piercing his ears. Once the wind and noise died down, Kyle opened his eyes and unfurled himself from the protective stance he'd unconsciously curled into, his face paling slightly as he stared up at the large figure in front of him.

When he'd asked if a higher power was listening, he hadn't expected a giant, red-skinned, horned demon lord to answer him, and certainly not in person.

“ ** _I am Satan, ruler of Hell,_** ” the demonic man began, staring down at the red-haired boy in front of him, who--to his credit--stared back up at him with hardly any trace of fear save for his pale face.

“If you came to drag me to hell for everything I've done, then it's about damn time.”

Satan looked both surprised and amused by the blunt comment. “ ** _No, no--on the contrary._** ” Taking the flash of curiosity on Kyle's face as a sign to continue, he added, “ ** _I'm here to extend an offer to you._** ”

“... A deal with the devil, huh?” Kyle couldn't help the humorless laugh that slipped out as he put his gun back into his tattered jacket. “You know what? Sure, why the hell not. Let's hear what sort of offer you could have for a monster like me.”

“ ** _I'm offering to help you fix everything._** ”

Any bitterness in Kyle's expression immediately melted away at Satan's words, instead being replaced with genuine shock. “... What…?”

“ ** _All of this--the war, the deaths… everything can be fixed, but I can’t be the one to do it. I’ve already turned back time for the entire world once, and even the ruler of all Hell has limits. What I can do, though, is send you back in time--_** ”

“And then I can stop myself from starting this war,” Kyle finished with a pensive frown.

“ ** _Unfortunately it’s not that simple._** ”

“Of _course_ it's not, why would _anything_ ever be simple,” Kyle muttered dryly.

Satan either didn't hear him or chose not to respond as he continued speaking. “ ** _I can send you back, but you won’t be able to interact with yourself at all. It’s one of the stipulations of the spell, unfortunately._** ”

The slightest hint of frustration worked its way onto Kyle's face. “How the fuck am I supposed to stop myself if I can’t even interact with myself?”

“ ** _That’s for you to figure out. Would you prefer to not take a chance at all?_** ”

“... You’re right.” Kyle’s expression hardened. “If I'm going to spend the rest of my life just aimlessly wandering around, I might as well take a chance and focus on fixing my past mistakes. So what's the catch?”

“ ** _The catch?_** ”

Kyle's eyes narrowed. “Don't play dumb. This offer is too good to be true, there has to be something else--something you're getting out of it, or something you're not telling me.”

Satan was silent for a moment before sighing. “ _ **You're right, there is one more thing you need to know.**_ ”

“Just spit it out already!”

Satan frowned. “ ** _Very well then. I was hoping to give you some time to think things over, but since you seem to have made up your mind… you need to know that your time in the past will be limited--namely until November 29, the day the missile was launched at Canada. Once you reach that day, regardless of whether the future is changed or not… you will fade out of existence. Forever._** ”

Kyle was silent as he took this in, mulling the information over with an impassive expression before finally asking, “But will the ‘me’ from that time continue to exist?”

“ ** _Yes. The ‘you’ of right now will be an anomaly in that time, and can only exist for so long before the universe rejects you. The ‘you’ of that time will be unaffected._** ”

“... I’ll do it.”

Kyle’s expression was cold and determined he looked Satan directly in the eye.

“ ** _You’ll disappear without knowing how the future truly turns out, you know. Are you okay with that?_** ”

“I don’t care what happens to me as long as I can protect them. I just have to trust that I’ll change the future for the better and that it stays that way after I’m gone.”

Satan observed Kyle for a moment before finally nodding. “ ** _Give me your hand._** ”

Kyle held out his hand without hesitation, not even batting an eye as Satan cut a pentagram into his palm. The blood from his hand dripped to the ground, the liquid shifting beneath his feet until the same shape etched into his skin was drawn out on the floor, and both pentagrams began to glow as Satan began to chant incomprehensible words in a dark, guttural tone.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the world began shifting around him, feeling nauseous as the ground gave way beneath his feet. He could feel himself falling, yet despite everything, he felt no fear.

Best case scenario, he would end up in the past as promised and have a chance to fix everything. Worst case scenario, he was actually falling to his death and would join everyone in the afterlife.

Either way, Kyle was ready to face whatever fate awaited him.

* * *

Silence.

The first thing Kyle became aware of was the abrupt silence that washed over him, a stark contrast to the constant noise that he’d grown accustomed to hearing over the years, the sound of gunfire and shouting and chaos that came from moving from one battlefield to the next.

Now, however, the only noise that met Kyle’s ears were the faint sound of birds chirping.

Somehow the silence was more deafening than anything.

The next thing Kyle became aware of, as he cautiously opened his eyes, was the familiar neighborhood stretched out all around him, bright and filled with color despite the sun sinking in the sky and bringing nighttime with it. A town that had begun to fade in his memory suddenly came bursting back in vivid detail as he looked around and recognized each house that he saw.

It was all so… _nostalgic_.

Kyle hated it.

He felt on-edge, like this was the calm before the storm, and he was just waiting for someone or something to come and rip the rug out from under his feet. Even if this was the past, it was just too _peaceful_ , there had to be _something_ that would jump out at him at some point--

“Kyle...?”

Kyle hadn’t realized that he’d been ambling down the sidewalk in a daze until a voice from behind him snapped him out of it and caused him to jerk to a halt, and in the blink of an eye he’d whipped around, gun in hand and finger on the trigger as he pointed the barrel at whoever had snuck up behind him.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , dude!”

Kyle blinked, staring at the familiar boy behind him, who in turn stared at him in a mix of wide-eyed fear and confusion.

“... Stan…?”

Kyle slowly lowered the gun, a myriad of different emotions rushing through him all at once as he took in the sight of his once-super best friend standing in front of him, alive and well.

“Kyle, why the hell do you have a gun? And--dude, what the hell happened to your _hair?_ Where’s your hat? Is that _blood_ on your clothes? What--”

Kyle held up a hand to silence the flood of questions, putting his gun back into his jacket as he mulled over how much he should say. Would Stan even believe him if he told him the truth? Would he hate him and want nothing to do with him?

The silence between them was almost physically stifling, and was only broken as Stan took a few steps forward, clearing the distance between them as he grabbed Kyle by the wrist and started pulling him along.

“Wh-- Stan, what are you--”

“Dude, I don’t know what’s going on, but you can’t just walk around with blood on your clothes and a gun in your jacket. We’re going back to my house.”

Kyle blinked, his expression bemused, and allowed Stan to pull him along until they were approaching Stan’s (painfully familiar) house, next to Kyle’s (so painfully familiar) house, and Stan pulled him around into his (why did everything familiar suddenly hurt so much?) backyard before finally letting go of him.

“Just stay here for a bit, alright? I’ll grab some clothes for you to change into, and then we can head up to my room to talk.”

Kyle opened his mouth, wanting to say so many things--to yell at Stan for being so naive and trusting of someone who just pointed a gun at him, to question why he couldn’t be this supportive and this willing to help him when he was being bullied and ostracized, to beg him for forgiveness for a crime he hadn’t even committed yet--before closing it and nodding, deciding that Stan was right.

He knew once he started talking, everything would end up tumbling out whether he wanted it to or not, and it would be better to discuss everything in private.

Stan rushed off, and Kyle watched him go before warily glancing around. Perhaps the universe had been kind enough to let Stan be the first person to run into him, but he knew that kindness would run out soon enough, and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down as he’d accidentally done before.

Within a few minutes, Stan returned with a plastic bag in his arms, and he handed the bag to Kyle. “Here. There’s some clothes, and, uh….”

Kyle dug through the bag, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as he pulled out a familiar green hat.

“You left it over my house a while back, remember?” Stan said by way of explanation, and Kyle found that he could vaguely remember leaving one of his spare ushankas at Stan’s for “safe-keeping,” after an incident involving his precious hat being ruined and having nothing to cover his hair with other than a ridiculous-looking baseball cap that Stan let him borrow.

“You actually held onto it?”

Stan looked embarrassed. “What was I supposed to do, throw it out? Of course I held onto it, dude.”

Kyle cracked a small smile, the gesture feeling odd without any bitterness behind it, but it was worth the awkwardness as it prompted a smile from Stan in return. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He set the hat aside and began pulling off his clothes, noticing Stan turning away out of the corner of his eye to give him privacy, and as soon as Kyle put on the clothes that Stan gave him, he became acutely aware of the three year gap between them. (Or two year, he supposed, since Stan’s birthday was before his--he was probably still ten right now, while Kyle hadn’t hit thirteen just yet.)

Unfortunately malnutrition combined with lack of proper rest meant that Kyle didn’t grow very much, but he was still a good inch or two taller than Stan, just enough to make his ankles feel cold as there was a small gap between the bottom of the pants and his shoes. The shirt felt a bit short as well, though what it lacked in length it made up for in looseness, having lost any healthy weight he’d had when he was younger.

The last thing to go on was the ushanka, which felt snug around his head in a way that Kyle hadn’t felt in a long time--it was a bit small, but comfortable and familiar, and for a moment Kyle could almost pretend that he was nine years old again.

But he wasn’t, and there was no point in wasting time thinking about things that could never be. Not when he had a deadline that drew nearer with every second that passed.

Kyle felt naked without his gun on him, but there was nowhere for him to hide it and putting his tattered and bloodstained jacket back on would defeat the purpose of getting changed, so he decided to suck it up for the time being and just shove everything into the plastic bag, gun and all.

“Thanks,” he said with another weak smile as he looked at Stan, who turned back around and gave him a smile in return.

“No problem, dude. Now come on, let’s head inside.”

Kyle followed Stan out of his backyard and around to his front door, walking past Stan’s father on the living room couch and over to the stairs leading up to Stan’s bedroom. There was a heavy feeling in his chest as he covertly glanced around, taking in the familiar house that he’d spent so many years in, hanging out with his super best friend--it was nostalgic, but also nauseating as he thought about the ruined state this house must have been reduced to as the bomb fell on South Park, if there had even been anything left of the house at all.

Stan entered his bedroom and Kyle followed him in, reflexively closing and locking the door behind him before joining Stan as the dark-haired boy patted the spot next to him on his bed for Kyle to sit.

“Alright, so…,” Stan trailed off awkwardly.

“I should probably start at the beginning.” Kyle sighed, setting the plastic bag down on the floor and leaning back on the bed. “What’s today’s date?”

“Huh? It’s the 23rd, why?”

Kyle grimaced. “Less than a week, huh… that’s just cruel.”

“Kyle?”

The red-haired boy glanced over at the sound of his name, smiling humorlessly. “As you may or may not have guessed, I’m not the Kyle that you know.”

“... I kind of figured. My--uh, _our_ Kyle doesn’t walk around looking like he came from a murder scene. Plus his hair’s… you know. Poofy.”

Kyle laughed, briefly startling himself with the sudden sound. When was the last time he laughed so freely? Unwilling to dwell on those thoughts right now, he instead replied, “Well if you want your Kyle to keep his ‘poofy’ hair, then you’ve got a couple of days to stop him from making the oh-so-mature decision to shave it off--though I admit, I kept cutting it after that just because it was much easier to manage when it was short.”

“A couple of days?” Stan blinked, confused, and Kyle could practically see the gears turning in his friend’s mind as he began to put the pieces together. “Wait… you mean you’re from the future?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m guessing it, uh… wasn’t a great future,” Stan added lamely.

“If it was, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Good point.”

The two of them fell quiet, Kyle trying to piece together what he could say and Stan patiently waiting for his friend to speak. Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Kyle let out a sigh.

“In less than a week, the United States will launch a missile at Canada, starting a war between our two countries.”

Stan sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes wide in shock. “What? Why?”

“... Because of me.”

Kyle’s gaze remained firmly on one point in the wall, and he didn’t allow himself to so much as glance at Stan out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to see his reaction.

“Wh… what?” Stan laughed nervously. “Dude, that’s… you couldn’t have started a _war_ , that’s just….”

“I did. Or I will, I should say.” Kyle kept his gaze on the wall as he continued to speak. “It’s why I’m here.”

“Why did you start a war? And how?”

Kyle let out a breath that came out as more of an irritated hiss, and he forced himself to remain still and not whirl on his so-called friend as he replied, “Because I had enough. I was sick and tired of being pushed around and made fun of, and I was tired of nobody caring enough to _listen_ to me and _help_ me. Things got out of hand, and unfortunately the first person to actually _listen_ to me was Mister-fucking- _Garrison_ of all people, who took my frustrations too seriously.”

“... Dude, I….”

“Save it, Stan.” Kyle finally pulled his gaze away from the wall, his expression neutral but his voice containing traces of bitterness that he didn’t bother trying to hide. “You don’t have to apologize to me. Apologize to your Kyle, and stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life.”

Stan flinched and dropped his gaze, and the two of them were silent for a moment before Stan tentatively spoke up.

“... What happened to, uh… to the me from your time?”

“He died.” Kyle responded, his tone clipped. “Along with everyone in South Park. I was out of town when Canada dropped a bomb on the entire town. There were no survivors.”

“God….” Stan rested his head in his hands, feeling nauseous. “This is just… holy shit, dude. Holy _shit_.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Kyle muttered. “I fucking lived through it.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry….”

Kyle flinched, startled as Stan suddenly reached out and hugged him, before gradually relaxing. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for snapping, I just….”

“Kyle, you don’t have to apologize. I can’t even begin to imagine everything you’ve been through, but you have every right to be upset.” Stan pulled back to look at Kyle, and the red-haired boy was surprised to find tears in his friend’s eyes.

Then again, Stan always had been the emotional one. Kyle didn’t see much point in crying when anger was much more productive.

(And look at where that “productive” anger got him.)

“I want you to tell me everything, from start to finish,” Stan added after a moment.

Kyle frowned. “Are you sure you want to know everything?”

“Yeah.” Stan glanced down, taking Kyle’s hand and turning it over before the red-haired boy could stop him as he added, “Including how and why you made a deal with Satan. That’s pretty extreme, dude.”

Kyle blinked, startled. “How did you…?”

“Uh, it’s a long story,” Stan responded with a nervous laugh. “But I recognized the smell. Sulfur, I think? I dunno. And I saw the mark when I grabbed your wrist earlier.”

Kyle bit back a sarcastic remark of “ _oh, so you’re observant enough to notice shit like that, but not enough to notice your best friend being bullied_ ” and instead pulled his hand away from Stan’s. “Alright, I’ll tell you everything from the beginning. It’s a long story, though, just warning you. It’s not exactly a happy story, either.”

“I don’t mind.” Stan shifted on his bed to make himself comfortable before gesturing for Kyle to start.

And so Kyle told Stan everything.

He told Stan about how he tried to help Heidi out of her toxic relationship--and how he’d almost succeeded, until Cartman brainwashed her, convincing her that _Kyle_ had been the one manipulating her when all he’d wanted to do was try and make her happy.

He told Stan about how it hurt to watch a girl he’d actually had a bit of a crush on slowly turn into a female version of the person whose life goal seemed to be ruining his life in every way possible.

He told Stan about how instead of just dealing with Cartman picking on him, he had to deal with Cartman _and_ Heidi picking on him, putting him down for wanting to help--because God, that was all he’d wanted as a naive young child, to just _help_ and make things _better_ \--while everyone, _including Stan_ , his so-called _super best friend_ , stood around and did nothing except laugh along with them at his expense.

He told Stan about how watching Terrance and Philip and not finding it funny anymore made him sympathize with the victims in their comedy routine, with Cartman and Heidi taking turns emotionally beating on him like Terrance and Philip took turns farting on whatever unsuspecting person they brought onto their show, and with all of his classmates and so-called friends and even all the adults either laughing or turning a blind eye to what was going on just like the audience of the show.

He told Stan how he decided from that point on that he was no longer a child--he shaved his hair, got rid of his Terrance and Philip shirts, and began rallying together a group of people to have Terrance and Philip taken off the air in America, honestly believing that if people weren’t exposed to this sort of victimizing humor, then they wouldn’t imitate it and all the bullying would stop.

He told Stan about the phone call. How Stan, the one person he’d wanted to be on his side or at least understand why he was doing this, told him he was acting like his mother just like everyone else did.

(Kyle saw Stan wince at that. Maybe it was wrong to feel glad that Stan felt guilty for something he didn’t even do yet, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment, lost in the bitterness of his memories.)

Finally, he told Stan about Tweek’s warning, a warning that he proceeded to ignore. How he was going to get them all killed if he continued doing this while Garrison was in office.

“And I did,” he continued with a humorless smile. “He was right. I got all of you killed.”

Then came the war itself: the missile being launched at Canada; Kyle seeing the devastation on the news moments before he was dragged off to a bomb shelter; hearing the news of South Park being bombed over the radio; and then everything after that was a blur of bloodshed and survival.

“I wanted to die,” Kyle admitted. “I didn’t want to live in a world where my family and friends were all dead because of me--but I also didn’t want to take the easy way out. I felt like everyone would never forgive me if I just let myself get killed, or if I killed myself. So I fought. I survived. For three years, until I just… broke down. I questioned what God would allow such horrible things to happen. I dared whatever higher power was listening to prove me wrong--and that’s when Satan showed up.”

Kyle looked down at the pentagram carved into his palm, the skin still raw but the markings remaining despite the cuts having healed. “I didn’t even have to consider his offer. I had nothing left to live for anyway, so why would I pass up the opportunity to fix my mistakes?” He glanced up at Stan as he added, “But… I can’t do it alone. I only have until the 29th to fix this, and I’m not able to interact with myself, so I need someone to stop my past self from causing a war. I understand all of this may be hard to believe, but….”

_But I need your help._

Stan remained silent the entire time that Kyle spoke, not interrupting with questions or comments as Kyle thought he might, and even now the dark-haired boy was sitting quietly on his bed with an unreadable expression. Kyle remained quiet as well, his mouth feeling dry and his head feeling dizzy as he belatedly realized he literally hadn’t talked that much in years, and he wondered how Stan would respond.

If Stan wanted nothing to do with this mess, then Kyle would just pick up and leave without another word. He wouldn’t blame Stan for not wanting to fix someone else’s mistakes.

Finally, Stan broke the silence by shifting off of his bed and onto his feet before turning to face Kyle.

“My mom’s going to be making dinner soon, you can stay for dinner and spend the night here. You should go take a shower and clean yourself up a bit so my parents don’t get suspicious of anything.”

Kyle frowned, unsure of how to take Stan’s response. “... You don’t want anything to do with this, do you. Not that I can blame you--”

“No, dude, that’s not it,” Stan quickly responded, running a hand over his face in an attempt to compose himself before letting out a sigh. “Look, I just… that was a lot to take in, okay? I just need a few minutes to think, and you could use a few minutes to unwind, so go take a shower while I try and get my head on straight. You can keep using the clothes I gave you, and after dinner we can stay in my room and figure out a game plan for how to fix everything. Alright?”

Kyle, though he was reluctant to admit it, was relieved to hear that Stan was willing to help him. Outwardly, he merely nodded in agreement before wordlessly making his way out of Stan’s bedroom and over to the bathroom, trying his best to stifle the small bit of hope that was beginning to blossom inside him.

Just because Stan was willing to help didn’t mean that the future would end up changing for the better. He couldn’t afford to get ahead of himself, he had to stay focused and on his guard.

It couldn’t be this easy. He knew that this was just the calm before the storm… it had to be.

* * *

Stan knocked on the bathroom door after a half hour. “Hey, dude? Dinner’s almost ready, I already told my mom you were staying over. You okay?”

Kyle pulled his gaze away from the mirror at the sound of Stan’s voice, though he didn’t respond. Truthfully, he’d finished his shower at least ten minutes ago, and was just standing in his boxers examining himself in the mirror with an odd and almost nauseating feeling of dysphoria. He felt detached, like the person staring back at him in the mirror wasn’t really him--the last time he’d seen himself in a mirror, he was ten and had been stealing clothes from an empty store when he caught a glimpse of himself. Now, at twelve-going-on-thirteen, Kyle could see every minute difference between who he used to be and who he was now, to the point where he couldn’t help but wonder how Stan had recognized him so quickly.

To Kyle, the boy looking back at him in the mirror was a complete stranger.

Stan knocked on the door again, pulling Kyle out of his thoughts.

“Dude, seriously, are you alright?”

In lieu of an answer, Kyle unlocked the door and cracked it open a bit, silently giving Stan permission to enter.

Stan entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him, his heart dropping as he took in the physical proof of everything Kyle told him: every scar littering his friend’s chest and arms and legs told a story of pain and suffering, of a future that he shouldn’t have had to live in. It took all of Stan’s self-restraint to not break down, crying the tears that Kyle refused to shed, and instead he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before meeting Kyle’s eyes.

Kyle smiled wryly as he saw Stan’s expression. “I’m a mess, I know.”

“You’re not,” Stan quickly responded. “You’re not a mess. Dude, you’re amazing.” He paid no mind to Kyle’s surprised expression and flushed face as he continued talking. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still so strong… I don’t think I would have been able to hold on for as long as you did, honestly.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kyle muttered, turning his attention to his clothes as he finished getting dressed, though inwardly he was flattered by Stan’s praise--he’d never thought of surviving as a feat of strength; he’d always attributed it to his own cowardice. “You’re strong, too. Probably more than I am.”

Stan was about to reply when he heard his mother calling up to them to let them know that dinner was ready, and he sighed before giving Kyle a smile. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Kyle nodded and followed Stan downstairs, the smell of a home-cooked meal and the sight of a family (not his own family, but Stan’s family had always been like a second family to him anyway) seated around a dining room table causing a lump to form in his throat. He shoved the emotions away as strongly as he possibly could and focused on keeping up a passable act as he put on a smile and sat down next to Stan at the table.

“Thanks for letting me stay over, Mrs. Marsh, Mr. Marsh.”

Sharon gave Kyle a smile. “It’s no trouble at all. It’s good to see you two spending time together again.”

Stan winced slightly at that, though he tried to hide it. Had it really been that long since he and Kyle hung out, that even his parents noticed? He would have to add that to the list of things that he needed to fix.

Sharon set out plates of freshly-cooked food for each of them, and Kyle wished that his stomach could handle such a large meal, because even just the first bite was like an explosion of flavors on his tongue that he hadn’t experienced in far too long. Two more bites in and Kyle had to abruptly stand up and excuse himself as he felt his eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, and Stan was quick to stand up and go after his friend after apologizing to his mother, following him to the bathroom and frowning as he found the door locked.

He was about to knock on the door when he paused, catching a faint sound that made his heart clench in sympathy.

Kyle was crying.

* * *

Kyle knew it was pathetic of him to break down over a home-cooked meal. He’d been so strong, managed to keep himself from shedding any tears even through all the pain and suffering he’d endured--and after all that, he gets done in by fresh, warm food and a familiar, nostalgic atmosphere?

It was almost enough to make him laugh. The only reason he didn’t was because he feared it would come out as a sob instead.

He shakily pushed himself up to his feet, grabbing a few tissues and cleaning himself up as he forced himself to stop crying. Crying never accomplished anything, and right now all he was doing was wasting time and calling unnecessary attention to himself.

Kyle turned on the sink and splashed some water on his face, examining himself in the mirror and making sure it didn’t look like he’d been crying, and once he was satisfied he dried his face off before finally unlocking and opening the door.

He was startled when he suddenly saw Stan rising to his feet from next to the door, feeling embarrassed as he realized that Stan had probably been listening to him crying like a baby that entire time.

Before Kyle could try and defend himself, Stan put a hand on his arm and gave him a reassuring smile.

“You alright now, dude?”

Kyle let out a sigh before giving Stan a small smile, grateful that he was tactful enough to not ask about his small meltdown.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

* * *

Stan was genuinely surprised that they’d managed to make it through the night without either of his parents questioning how different Kyle was--to be fair, his behavior wasn’t too off from normal (even if Stan knew, sadly, that Kyle was just putting on an act in order to fool his family) and no one could see his haircut, but he thought at least his mother would have noticed the difference, especially since she kept glancing at him and asking questions about school and his family that he could only give vague answers to.

Oh well. Small blessings, he supposed. It was better than Kyle having to explain everything all over again.

After finishing dinner, they went upstairs to get ready for bed, Kyle borrowing a pair of Stan’s pajamas and rolling out an old sleeping bag that he found in Stan’s closet while the dark-haired boy got showered and changed. Once they were together in Stan’s bedroom with the door closed (Stan had to talk Kyle out of locking it out of paranoid habit), they sat together at Stan’s desk as they looked at a calendar, Kyle doing his best to remember what events happened on which day so that Stan could know what signs to look for and when he would need intervene in order to alter the future.

Stan was worried that just changing a few things wouldn’t be enough to stop an entire war from happening. Kyle knew that even just having Stan by his past self’s side would be more than enough to change the future, and everything else they discussed was just added insurance.

A few hours of talking and planning later, Kyle all but carried Stan over to his bed as the dark-haired boy nodded off while insisting that he was awake, tucking him in with an expression that was both amused and nostalgic before laying down in the sleeping bag next to Stan’s bed.

Sleep came just about as easy as it always did for Kyle: namely, not at all. It took another hour before Kyle was finally able to doze off, and two hours later saw Stan waking up to the sounds of Kyle’s distress as he tossed and turned in his sleep.

“Kyle? Hey, dude, wake up.” Stan frowned as Kyle didn’t react to his voice, and he shifted off of the bed so he could crouch down and shake him awake. “Ky--woah!”

Stan stumbled and fell backwards as Kyle suddenly whipped out his gun from under his pillow and pointed it in his face, and he hastily held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Dude! Chill, it’s me!”

Kyle squinted, eyeing him for a moment before slowly lowering his gun and letting out a breath. “Future reference? Don’t do that. You’re lucky I didn’t pull the trigger.”

Stan laughed nervously. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.” A few seconds passed before Stan asked, “You seriously sleep with a gun under your pillow? Isn’t that… I dunno, uncomfortable?”

“When it’s a choice between comfort and survival, unfortunately survival wins.” Kyle responded, his tone clipped and his expression obviously irritated. “Why did you wake me up?”

“I… you were having a nightmare, so I thought--”

“I always have nightmares, it’s nothing new. Just ignore me and go back to sleep, you have school tomorrow.”

Stan frowned, his expression a cross between annoyed and determined as he got back onto his bed and shifted towards the wall. “Sleep up here. There’s enough room for both of us, and you’ll probably sleep better in an actual bed than on the floor.”

Kyle stared up at him, wondering if he was serious, before finally sighing and pushing himself up to his feet, reluctantly leaving his gun on the sleeping bag as he moved over to the bed. “I doubt it’ll make a difference, but I know you’re just going to refuse to go to sleep if I don’t, so fine.”

Stan smiled in satisfaction and pulled back the covers so that Kyle could get under them with him, closing his eyes as soon as Kyle’s head hit the pillow.

Kyle would never admit it, but those next few hours--lying next to his friend in a warm, familiar bed--ended up being the most peaceful sleep he’d had in years.

* * *

Stan woke up the next morning to an empty bed.

If it hadn’t been for his mother asking where Kyle was when she came to wake them up, Stan might have written off all of the previous evening as just one long, weird dream.

But it wasn’t. There really was a war looming in the not-so-distant future, and Stan was the one that Kyle trusted to stop it.

“He left early to go home and get ready for school,” Stan lied, and thankfully his mother bought the lie and let it go at that, leaving the room so that Stan could start getting ready himself.

Stan moved out of bed with a sigh once his mother was gone, frowning when a piece of paper fell out of bed with him. He bent down to pick up the paper, inspecting it curiously and noting that, though shaky and a bit messier than normal, the handwriting was unmistakably Kyle’s.

“ _ ~~Dear~~ ~~To~~ Stan,_

_Thank you for last night. It’s been a long time since I’ve ~~felt~~ ~~had a~~ had someone to talk to._

_I wish I didn’t have to dump such a heavy ~~responsbil~~ responsibility on you, but you’re the only one I can trust to stop me from making the biggest mistake of my life. If I could have fixed my own mess myself without involving you anyone, I would have, but of course it could never be that easy._

_I decided it was better to leave before anyone else woke up, to avoid any more questions. The last thing we need is your mother mentioning anything about me sleeping over to my mother. ~~I don’t want~~ Things will only be worse if my mother gets involved._

_I borrowed some more of your clothes, I hope you don’t mind. I don’t want anyone else ~~getting involved~~ recognizing me. I’ll probably wander around town while you’re at school, ~~so I don’t fuck anything else up~~ but I’ll be at Stark’s Pond later in the day. You don’t have to come, but if you need to find me for whatever reason, you can look for me there._

_Thank you again._

_~~Your Friend~~ From, Kyle_”

Stan sighed, crouching down by his dresser and opening the bottom drawer, where his parents never seemed to check. He tossed the note inside so they wouldn’t find it, before pulling out a half-empty bottle of whisky that he saved for mornings like these.

He could already tell that this was going to be a long, emotionally strenuous day, and he needed all the help he could get to get through it.

Stan took a long swig of the alcohol before closing up the bottle, and he tossed it back into the drawer before pushing the drawer closed, already feeling a comfortable and pathetically familiar buzz settling in as he started getting ready for school.

* * *

Stan was putting his books in his locker when a rush of students running past him caught his attention, and he glanced back in confusion, catching Craig and Tweek’s eyes as they ran by.

“What’s going on?”

“Cartman and his girlfriend are fighting again!” Tweek called back to him as Craig continued pulling him along.

Stan paled, remembering what Kyle had told him last night, and he quickly slammed his locker shut and ran after them, barely managing to squeeze himself to the center of the crowd where Cartman and Heidi were, quite literally, having a fight. Stan’s first instinct was to join in with the crowd’s cheering and root for Heidi to kick Cartman’s ass, but he shook his head and focused instead on trying to find Kyle in the crowd, tuning out Cartman and Heidi’s argument about the Terrance & Philip viewing party he was having that weekend.

He finally caught sight of Kyle’s green ushanka next to Kenny’s orange parka, but before Stan could try and move over to him to stop him from getting involved, Kyle pushed his way through the crowd and forced Cartman and Heidi apart.

“Hey, hey, _hey!_ What the _hell_ are you all doing?”

Stan grimaced, his heart sinking. He was too late, he couldn’t stop Kyle from getting involved, everything was ruined--

“Guys, this has gone on _way_ too long,” Kyle continued, his expression and tone both attempting to be pacifying. “Can’t we all stop being so _mean_ to each other?”

There was a moment of silence, in which Stan had a faint glimmer of hope that maybe, somehow, things would be different than the future that Kyle had described to him, when--

“Shut up Kyle. You sound like your mom,” Heidi sneered, prompting laughter from the crowd and Cartman alike.

“What the hell!” Stan stormed forward without thinking, completely missing Kyle’s surprised expression as he glared at Cartman and Heidi. “Kyle doesn’t sound like his mom! He’s right, you two are constantly at each other’s throats!”

“And here comes Prince Charming, swooping in to rescue his princess,” Cartman mocked, chortling along with Heidi and the crowd at his own joke.

Stan frowned. “I’m not ‘swooping in’ to rescue anyone, I’m just saying that Kyle has a point! You guys are acting like total assholes, both to Kyle and to each other. It’s fucked up, dude. Being in a relationship should mean that you help each other grow to be better people, not--”

“Oh great, here we go, another hippie speech,” Cartman interrupted, rolling his eyes as he opened and closed his hand to mock Stan speaking. “Blah, blah, blah.”

“Guess what, Stan? No one gives two shits about what you think--big surprise, huh?” Heidi added, prompting laughter from the crowd once more.

Stan didn’t care who laughed at him, though he was starting to get an idea of how Kyle must have felt this whole time. Dealing with Cartman was bad enough without adding a second Cartman to the mix, and having a crowd of students jeering along with the mocking didn’t help.

Still, it was better that they focused all this animosity on him than on Kyle.

As if reading his thoughts, Kyle moved over to him with an annoyed expression. “I don’t need your _help_ , Stan,” he hissed, startling the dark-haired boy.

“I know you don’t _need_ my help, but I just….”

“You just _what?_ You thought I couldn’t handle speaking my mind without someone backing me up?”

Stan winced under Kyle’s glare, briefly turning an annoyed expression to Cartman and Heidi as they laughed before frowning at Kyle.

“Dude, you know that’s not true. Why are you making such a big deal out this? Is it really that bad that I agree with you?”

He could hear someone from the crowd chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” and felt his annoyance reaching its peak. Before he could do or say something stupid, Stan grabbed Kyle’s wrist and started dragging him along, ignoring the red-haired boy’s protests.

“What, you gonna go suck off your boyfriend to apologize?” Heidi sneered, Cartman snickering as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re the best, babe. You know that?”

“Damn right I am.”

Stan stopped briefly to glance over his shoulder and glare at the couple. “Just because Cartman sucks your dick to keep you pacified doesn’t mean that’s how everyone apologizes.”

He smirked in satisfaction at Cartman and Heidi’s outraged exclamations, but didn’t bother sticking around long enough for them to come up with a comeback. Instead, he merely kept walking while holding onto Kyle’s wrist, feeling relieved as his friend stopped fighting him and instead followed willingly, the slightest hint of an amused smile briefly tugging at the corners of the red-haired boy’s lips.

Annoyed at Stan or not, it was definitely a nice change for Cartman and Heidi to not have the last laugh, and Kyle enjoyed listening to their irritated sputtering as he followed Stan away from the crowd and into the boy’s bathroom.

Stan locked the door once they were inside, giving them the privacy and freedom to speak their minds without their nosy classmates crowding around them, before finally turning to properly face Kyle.

“Alright, dude. Now can you please tell me what the hell that was about back there?”

“ _Me?_ Why don’t _you_ tell me what that was about back there!” Kyle responded, his previous irritation returning full-force. “Since when do you care enough to get involved?”

Stan winced at that, his heart feeling heavy with guilt. “I… dude, you know I care--”

“Oh sure, that’s why you always just stood by and laughed along with Cartman whenever he put me down.”

“Oh yeah? Then what about you?” Stan shot back, his own irritation spiking up. “You were supposed to be my super best friend, but all you’ve done recently is side with Cartman over me!”

“What? No I haven’t!”

“Yes you have!” Stan glared at Kyle, who glared right back. “You want to point fingers and act like I abandoned you or whatever, but where the hell were you when I was dealing with my depression, huh? You were with fucking _Cartman!_ ”

Kyle winced briefly at that, but the guilty expression was gone as fast as it came. “I already told you! You were dragging me down! And why the hell are you making this about you when you’re the one that abandoned me?”

“Because I’m trying to tell you that I _needed_ you, and you abandoned me first! Did you ever think that maybe I was ‘dragging you down’ because I didn’t have the strength to stay afloat on my own? I needed you to help pull me out of that depressed funk I was in, and you just let go and let me drown on my own because you couldn’t deal with it and didn’t want to put in the effort!”

Kyle faltered, his irritation simmering slightly. “... Dude, is that seriously what this is about?” With an edge to his voice, he added, “So what, this was your way of getting back at me?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know!” Stan moved a hand up to run a hand through his hair in frustration before remembering that he was still wearing his hat, and instead he merely let his arm drop to his side as he continued to scramble for the right words to convey his feelings to Kyle. “I just… it wasn’t on purpose, but I guess some part of me just thought that I couldn’t trust you anymore, and if you weren’t willing to put in the effort to help me then why should I put in the effort to help you?” Any anger he felt drained away, leaving him with no energy and a slight throbbing headache as he massaged the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. “... I’m still struggling, you know,” he confessed quietly. “Some mornings I can barely even manage to drag myself out of bed. Sometimes I need to drink before I leave for school, just to make it through the day.”

“... Stan….”

Stan smiled humorlessly, keeping his eyes closed both to deal with his headache and to avoid looking at Kyle. “I’m fucked up and I honestly can’t blame you for giving up on me, but… but that didn’t stop it from hurting. You’re my _super best friend_ , dude--I could never replace you, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I could, and just… hearing you spout the same crap as everyone else back then hurt so much, especially when all I wanted was to know that I could still rely on you to be there for me no matter what. I guess I just never really got over it, even if I told myself I did. I know that doesn’t excuse how I’ve been treating you, though, and I’m sorry.”

When Stan finally forced himself to open his eyes, he saw Kyle looking at him with an expression that was both upset and irritated.

“First of all, I’m sorry too,” Kyle began, his tone slightly clipped with lingering anger. “You’re right about everything. None of that excuses how you’ve been treating me, but I really was a shitty best friend--I still am, for that matter. I never should have given up on you, I just… dude, you know I don’t have that kind of patience, you shouldn’t have expected so much from me.”

“I know I was asking a lot of you, and I’m sorry for that,” Stan replied with a sigh. “You can just forget I said anything, I’m sorry for dumping all that on you. I don’t even know where that came from.”

Kyle frowned, his irritation gradually fading from his tone and expression. “Dude, no. I think we’ve been putting all of this off for way too long. It’s about time we got everything out in the open.” He sighed. “Like you said, we’re supposed to be super best friends, but we haven’t exactly been living up to that title. We’ve been treating each other like crap, and I’m honestly tired of it.”

“Me too…. Do you think we could just… I dunno, call it even and put everything behind us so we can go back to how we used to be?”

Kyle looked conflicted. “I don’t know, Stan… I mean I want to, but is it really that easy?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Stan frowned. “If we both acknowledge that we were acting fucked up by abandoning one another, and if we both agree to move past that, then what’s stopping us from going back to acting like best friends like we used to?”

“I don’t know!” Kyle’s expression was starting to veer back into irritation, and Stan quickly cleared the distance between them so he could put his hands on Kyle’s shoulders.

“Kyle. Dude. You’re overthinking things.” Stan smiled. “Friends fight, right? So this was just one big fight, and now we both made up. Yeah, we both changed a bit because of it, so maybe we can’t go back to acting _exactly_ like we used to, but as long as we can go back to trusting each other to have each other’s back, then that’s all that matters. Right?”

“... Yeah, you’re right.” Finally, Kyle returned Stan’s smile with a tentative one of his own, and Stan felt a weight that he hadn’t even been aware of lift off of his chest.

The bell ringing brought the two newly-reconciled super best friends back to reality, and Stan reluctantly moved his hands off of Kyle’s shoulders so he could unlock the bathroom door.

“C’mon, we should head to class.” He hesitated for a second before adding, “Do you want to hang out after school?”

Kyle’s smile widened. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

It was only when Stan and Kyle made it to their classroom that Stan realized he’d unintentionally done what the future Kyle had asked of him, and suddenly the task of changing the future for the better didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

* * *

Walking around South Park was both painful and refreshing: painful as it was a reminder of what he’d destroyed, and refreshing as it gave him the chance to be in a familiar place, surrounded by familiar people, after spending so long with only his thoughts and the sound of gunfire and bombshells for company.

Kyle had chosen to take dark pants and a dark hoodie from the back of Stan’s closet--remnants of Stan’s emo phase (or was it a goth phase?)--since he knew that they were clothes that he would never be caught dead wearing, and he kept the hood pulled tightly around his head so his face was as hidden as possible without impairing his vision.

_I almost feel like Kenny, walking around like this._

The thought caused a small smile to briefly flit across his face, before his expression returned to a more neutral look as he continued aimlessly walking down the familiar streets.

His thoughts gradually turned back to Stan as the hours passed by. Did he see Kyle’s note this morning? Had he been able to change anything? What was he doing right now? Was he thinking about him at all, or did he just brush last night off as one of those weird South Park things and put everything out of his mind?

Kyle really hoped that wasn’t the case.

He passed by a store with a television playing the news in the window, and he squinted to try and check the time in the corner of the screen before frowning as he realized that it was later than he thought--he’d been aimlessly walking around for almost eight hours without even realizing. His stomach growling reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in the entire time that he was walking around either, not that he had any food nor any money to buy any food, and he sighed as he made his way towards Stark’s Pond.

Maybe he’d get lucky and find a tree with some fruit on it that he could pick. (Were there even fruit trees at Stark’s Pond? Kyle genuinely couldn’t remember.)

Unfortunately, Kyle found as he walked around the woods surrounding the pond, there wasn’t any fruit that he could pick, and it was with a heavy sigh and an empty stomach that Kyle plopped himself down onto one of the many empty benches scattered around the pond. He could faintly hear the sound of children chattering and laughing amongst themselves, and he smiled wistfully into his hoodie, wondering if his younger self was among them--and more importantly, if he was with Stan, talking and laughing like they used to oh-so long ago.

Kyle gradually allowed himself to zone out and relax, just barely starting to get used to the idea of not having to be ready for something or someone to try and kill him at a moment’s notice, and he only snapped out of it when someone sat down next to him on the bench. He jerked and quickly reached into his hoodie for his gun before pausing as he recognized the orange parka next to him.

“... Kenny?” he asked without thinking as he let go of his gun and pulled his hand back out of his hoodie, before catching himself and inwardly cursing--what the hell was the point of disguising himself if he was just going to go and give himself away?

Kenny smiled. “I almost didn’t recognize you--but I guess that’s what you were going for, huh?” Before Kyle could respond, he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t mention anything to anyone. So, who else knows that you’re here?”

Kyle blinked, bewildered, before frowning warily. “Why are you talking like you know what’s going on?”

Kenny laughed. “Dude, believe it or not, Satan and I go way back, and I recognized his touch before I even got a proper look at you. Plus I just saw Kyle at school today and he definitely wasn’t wearing goth clothes, but you’ve definitely got his face and his voice, so I’d guess it’s pretty safe to say that Satan sent you back in time from some point in the future.” He grinned. “How’s that for a guess? Am I anywhere in the ballpark?”

Kyle’s mouth opened and closed, and Kenny’s grin widened in response.

“I’m gonna take that as a home run.”

“... I don’t even know where to begin with everything you just said,” Kyle muttered, putting a hand over his face and massaging the bridge of his nose. “But putting aside my own questions on the matter… yes, you’re right. I’m from the future, and Satan sent me to the past to fix my mistakes and change the future.”

Kenny hummed. “Well that was pretty nice of him,” he remarked idly, before adding, “So what sort of mistakes are you fixing by sitting around at Stark’s Pond?”

Kyle flushed guiltily. “I… I’m not allowed to interact with myself, so honestly--and unfortunately--I’m not the one fixing my mistakes.”

“Let me guess, Stan’s doing it for you?”

Kyle’s eyes widened in surprise, and Kenny grinned. “That makes two for two! Man, I’m on a roll today.”

“How did you…?”

“Well I’m sure he’ll come and give you all the details himself, but he was surprisingly quick to jump to Kyle’s--this time’s Kyle’s, I mean--defense today. Plus, if we’re being completely honest, everyone and their mother knows that Stan would be the first person that you’d go to in any sort of emergency, and vice versa.”

Kyle’s blush darkened in embarrassment, and he glared at the cheekily grinning blond. “For your _information_ , I didn’t go to him. He just happened to be the first person to run into me when I arrived. It was just a coincidence, nothing more.”

“Right, right, of _course_ ,” Kenny drawled with obvious sarcasm, unfazed by Kyle’s glare. “Anyway, even if none of that gave it away, the fact that you’re walking around in Stan’s emo clothes did.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too observant for your own damn good?”

Kenny laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The two of them lapsed into silence, during which Kyle kept glancing at Kenny out of the corner of his eye before finally blurting out in frustration, “Aren’t you even going to ask why exactly I’m here? Or ask what I did to fuck up badly enough to have to make a deal with Satan just to fix it? Don’t tell me you know all of _that_ , too.”

Kenny shrugged. “It’s your story to tell, dude. I don’t know all the details, but I know enough to get the gist of what happened, and that’s all I need to know. I’m not gonna force you to spit out your life story for me.”

Kyle stared at him in surprise for a moment before letting out a quiet, relieved sigh. “... Thanks.”

“No problem. I know everyone’s got shit that they don’t want to talk about. Or can’t talk about, in some cases,” Kenny added with a humorless smile, before his smile turned more genuine as he continued speaking. “Just remember that Stan’s not your only friend, alright? I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you either, but just like Stan’s getting his ass in gear, I think it’s time for me to stop acting like a wallflower myself--and that doesn’t mean just helping your younger self.”

“What do you mean?”

Kyle looked so genuinely confused that Kenny swore he could physically feel his heart going out to him in sympathy. “Dude, I want to help _you_ too. You don’t have anywhere to stay while you’re here, right?” Kyle shook his head, and Kenny gave him a smile as he continued speaking. “Then at least come and sleep over my place. I don’t have much to offer, but it’s at least a small step up from sleeping outside, and I can guarantee that my parents will be either too high or too drunk to even notice an extra person spending the night.”

Kyle stared at Kenny in shock for a moment before dropping his gaze as he tried to process his friend’s kind offer. First Stan had given him a warm meal and a house to sleep in, and now Kenny was offering the same to him? He was so used to taking care of himself over these past few years that he wasn’t accustomed to these acts of kindness, though he found it too difficult to resist accepting the offer.

He had less than a week left to live, anyway. What harm would it be to live those few days in relative comfort and in the company of a friend instead of spending them sleeping on park benches all by himself?

“... Okay,” he agreed. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Kenny grinned brightly, pleased that Kyle agreed without kicking up a fuss. “No problem! You can just come on over whenever you feel like it--you remember where my place is, right?”

Kyle nodded, his expression shifting into wide-eyed surprise as Kenny reached out and wrapped an arm around him to pull him into a one-armed hug.

“Great, so I’ll see you later then!”

The blond moved his arm off of Kyle and stood up before his mind could finish processing the abrupt hug, and Kyle just barely managed to snap out of it in time to weakly return Kenny’s wave as the parka-clad boy began making his way out of the park, leaving Kyle alone with his thoughts once more.

Kyle leaned back on the bench, a small smile on his face as he stared up at the sky.

He hadn’t expected to have a second person find out about him (honestly, the entire interaction had been an unexpected whirlwind that left him reeling with questions that he probably would never get answers to), but the thought of having more people to rely on--more _friends_ to rely on--made an unfamiliar yet comfortable warmth settle in his chest.

The future was suddenly looking even brighter than before.

* * *

Sneaking out of his house that night wasn’t easy, but Stan was nothing if not determined. He managed to smuggle out a container of leftover food and two bottles of water in a plastic bag as he slipped out of the house and began making the long journey across town to Stark’s Pond, his nervousness warring with giddy excitement as he walked down the street.

He couldn’t wait to tell Kyle all about his day, and all the progress he’d made.

Stan had spent the rest of the school day and a couple of hours after school hanging out with Kyle (present-day Kyle, not future Kyle--he really needed to come up with a different way of referring to the two of them to avoid making himself confused), and it had been as if a part of him that he hadn’t even realized was missing had finally returned, making it easier to genuinely smile and laugh. He could only hope that everything that happened between them would be enough to at least begin to change the future for the better, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he got to speak with future Kyle and get his opinion.

He slowed his steps as soon as he entered the park, tensing up slightly as he glanced around warily. Wild animals weren’t uncommon this close to the woods, nor were dangerous homeless people, and Stan wasn’t sure which one he was more worried about encountering. Thankfully, he was saved the trouble of searching the whole park as he spotted a familiar face walking towards him, and he smiled as he met Kyle halfway.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come so late,” Kyle remarked with a slight frown. “Aren’t your parents going to worry?”

“Probably,” Stan admitted with a shrug. “But I couldn’t make it out here sooner, and I wanted to talk to you for at least a few minutes before going back home. Oh, and also”--Stan held out the plastic bag to Kyle, who took it with a confused expression--”I wanted to bring you something to eat, and some water.”

Kyle blushed lightly, caught off-guard by Stan’s considerate offer, and he hoped that his stomach’s growling wasn’t too audible--he could already smell the food, and it served to remind him that he hadn’t eaten anything since last night. “You really didn’t have to go through all that trouble, but thank you.”

Stan smiled. “No problem, dude. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“... Yeah.” Kyle returned Stan’s smile with a tentative one of his own before his expression fell back into concern. “Now come on, let me walk you back home. We can talk on the way there.”

Part of Stan had been hoping to just sit and talk with Kyle, but he knew that the older boy was right--it would make more sense for them to walk and talk, so he could be back home before his parents had the chance to realize that he was gone. “Okay.” A thought occurred to him, and he frowned as he added, “Where will you go after that, though? Are you going to sleep by the pond?”

“Well, that was the original plan,” Kyle responded as he began walking alongside his friend. “I wasn’t exactly expecting Kenny to show up and offer to let me stay with him, though. I think I’m going to take him up on his offer.”

“Kenny? Seriously?” Stan looked at Kyle in surprise. “So he knows about all the future stuff too?”

Kyle shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea how much Kenny does and doesn’t know--but at the very least, he did know that I’m not the same Kyle that was at school with you guys today, and he offered to let me stay with him since he figured I had nowhere else to sleep.”

“It’s weird, but I’m kind of not surprised… and hey, at least you’ve got a place to sleep now, that’s good.” Stan smiled as he added, “Oh, and speaking of Kyle at school, I didn’t manage to stop him--uh, or, _you_ , I guess--from getting involved in Cartman and Heidi’s fight but I think I still managed to fix things. We hung out today after school and everything, just like old times!”

Kyle looked surprised for a moment before grinning, uncaring of how foreign the expression felt on his face. “Seriously? Dude, that’s great! That means you already started to change the future! So what exactly did you say to him?”

Stan recounted the entire afternoon as they walked, some parts more reluctantly than others--his outburst in the bathroom was embarrassing to reenact, but he felt that this Kyle deserved to know everything just as much as his Kyle did--and by the time they reached Stan’s house, he was in the middle of describing a basketball match that he’d played with Kyle and some of the other guys after school.

“Of course, Kyle still kicked all our asses like he always does in basketball, but it was a really close match! Then he and I went over to his house for a bit--I was worried about my parents mentioning last night to him if he came over my house so I convinced him that it would be better to hang out at his place instead--and played some video games just the two of us, just like old times.”

Kyle smiled as he came to a stop in front of Stan’s house, reaching out with the hand not holding the plastic bag to give Stan’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I’m really happy that things are getting better between the two of you. I always missed our friendship, and I’m glad this time’s Kyle won’t have to feel the same way.”

Stan’s expression softened in a mixture of sympathy and guilt. “I’m sorry it took me so long, dude--but just… just remember that you’re still Kyle too, and that makes you my super best friend too. Okay?”

“Thank you. I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know,” Kyle murmured, before pulling his hand back and turning away. “I’m going to Kenny’s now, but you can find me at Stark’s Pond again around after-school hours every day if you need to talk to me.”

“Alright. Goodnight, dude.” Stan moved towards his front door before stopping and turning back towards Kyle to add, “And if you ever need anything, you can always come find me, okay? I don’t even mean just about the future stuff, I mean if you just want someone to hang out with or if you want to come over for dinner or anything at all.”

Kyle smiled. “Thanks, Stan. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Stan returned Kyle’s smile with one of his own before fishing his front door key out of his pocket and quietly sneaking back into the house, and Kyle watched to make sure that his friend made it inside without any mishaps before he began making his way towards Kenny’s house, looking forward to enjoying the meal that Stan had packed for him and getting a decent night’s sleep in the company of another good friend.

* * *

The next day passed much more peacefully than the previous two days, and before Stan knew it, it was Sunday morning--the day of the Terrance and Philip Netflix show premiere, which he invited some of the guys over to watch together at his house after church.

Stan laughed along with almost everyone else sitting in his living room--Butters, Craig, Tweek, Timmy, Jimmy, Token, and Kenny--as the show started, nearly forgetting about his best friend sitting next to him until he heard him let out a quiet sigh. Before he could question him, he was distracted by the sound of the doorbell, and he turned his attention over to the door as he shouted, “Come in!”

Stan’s smile fell slightly as Cartman and Heidi rushed in hand-in-hand and plopped themselves down on the floor in front of the TV.

“Did we miss it??” Cartman asked, out of breath.

“It’s just starting,” Stan responded, hoping that they would leave it at that and just focus on the show.

He should have known better than to expect a basic level of decency from either member of the toxic couple.

“Oh look honey, Kyle’s mom is here!” Heidi said with a grin, nudging Cartman as she looked over at Kyle. “Shouldn’t you be at temple, Mrs. Broflovski?”

Kyle looked annoyed but didn’t respond to neither Heidi’s comment nor the laughter from everyone else in the room (except Kenny, Stan noted, though it was only noticeable by the lack of shaking from his parka-clad form), and so Stan took it upon himself to glare at her, only holding his tongue when he felt Kyle nudge him and saw him shake his head slightly out of the corner of his eye.

Stan let out an irritated sigh but let it go, understanding the point that Kyle was trying to make to him--responding to their goading remarks would just drag it out and make things worse, so it was better to just ignore them. He didn’t like it, but he at least understood that saying something wouldn’t help in this situation.

(Plus, the last time he’d spoken up on Kyle’s behalf, he ended up making Kyle angry and making it seem like Kyle couldn’t defend himself, which wasn’t what Stan wanted at all.)

As the group laughed at the next gag on the show, Stan glanced over at Kyle, frowning worriedly as he took note of the frown on Kyle’s face. “What’s wrong, dude?” he questioned quietly, not wanting to attract Cartman and Heidi’s attention and give them another reason to bother Kyle.

“For the first time, I feel kind of bad for the person being farted on,” Kyle responded with obvious bitterness.

“Uh-oh, Kyle’s mom doesn’t like the cartoon guys, better shut it off.” Apparently Kyle’s voice carried a bit more than he’d intended as Heidi gleefully took the opportunity to rip on Kyle once more, prompting another glare from Stan and more laughter from all the guys except Kenny.

“Ignore them,” Stan muttered once everyone’s attention returned to the TV. “I think I get what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Kyle asked quietly, turning to look at Stan in surprise.

“Yeah, I mean….” Stan glanced at the TV, grimacing slightly as future Kyle’s metaphor returned to the forefront of his mind--it was so much easier to see and understand what he was saying when it was happening right in front of him. “Two people ripping on someone who hasn’t done anything wrong, and everyone who’s watching what’s going on just standing around laughing instead of trying to stop it? Kind of sounds like it’s hitting a bit close to home.”

Stan glanced back over at Kyle, blushing lightly at the look of awe and relief on his friend’s face.

“Dude, that’s… yeah, that’s exactly it. How did you…?”

Stan shrugged modestly. “I guess I’m just… trying to pay a bit more attention.”

 _I only knew because you told me,_ his mind responded traitorously, guilt bubbling up inside him--he never would have been able to figure out Kyle’s thought process if Kyle himself hadn’t been the one to spell it out to him, and he hated the thought of being so oblivious to his friend’s struggle that he’d been pushed to such extreme measures just to try and make his pleas heard.

Hopefully his Kyle wouldn’t feel the same way that future Kyle did, now that he knew that someone understood him.

“Thank you,” Kyle murmured with a smile, straightening up to properly lean back on the couch as he relaxed, and Stan returned his smile with one of his own.

“Anytime, dude.”

* * *

Stan muffled a yawn behind his hand as he sat at his lunch table with his usual group (sans Cartman, thankfully). He was still a bit tired from waking up extra early, especially on a Monday of all days, but getting to school before anyone else had been worth it--he had warned the people in charge of making the daily announcements over the school’s PA system that Cartman and Heidi were going to try and break in to play a prank, and the lack of any announcements in either of their voices combined with their annoyed expressions showed that his extra bit of effort paid off.

Unfortunately, his tiredness and his refusal to finish the lunch that he’d packed--not because he wasn’t hungry, but rather because he wanted to bring the food to future Kyle to make sure that he was eating, not that he could tell anyone that--brought out Kyle’s inner mother hen, and he blushed lightly as Kyle put a hand to his forehead to see if he had a fever.

“Dude, seriously, I’m _fine_ ,” he insisted for the umpteenth time, giving him a small smile to try and reassure him. “I didn’t sleep well and I’m not all that hungry, but I promise I’m not getting sick.”

“Alright…,” Kyle trailed off, before tensing as Cartman and Heidi suddenly squeezed themselves into their table, pushing Kenny clear off his seat.

“What the hell, dude?” Stan glared at Cartman and Heidi while Kyle got up to help Kenny up.

“What? Are you saying we’re not allowed to sit here?” Heidi spat, before sneering as she glanced over at Kyle. “Oh, hey Mrs. Broflovski, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off shopping for tampons?”

Cartman snorted in laughter. “Good one, babe.”

Kyle didn’t so much as glance in their direction as he sat back down next to Stan, nor did he respond to the taunt, and Stan’s heart sunk as he got a proper look at Kyle’s face.

He looked so… defeated.

Now that Stan thought about it, he couldn’t even remember the last time Kyle had fought back against anything said to him--before, he was like a spitfire, getting in Cartman’s face and yelling at him for any stupid comment that the larger boy made at his expense… but now? Now Kyle was like a shell of his former self, just resigning himself to the endless torture of being picked on simply for existing instead of fighting back against it.

Stan abruptly stood up, muttering something about not feeling well before grabbing his bag and rushing off, not even hearing Kyle shouting after him.

Kyle stood up and gathered his stuff as well, ignoring Cartman’s comments about him running off to be with his boyfriend. He paused when Kenny suddenly put a hand on his arm, blinking in confusion when he handed him a brown paper bag before realizing that Kenny had packed up the rest of Stan’s lunch that he’d left behind for him, and he smiled and thanked the blond before taking the bag and his backpack so he could go and find Stan.

Thankfully, Kyle didn’t have to look far: he figured if Stan wasn’t feeling well that he would either go to the bathroom or the nurse’s office, and since the bathroom was closer, Kyle checked there first and immediately saw Stan’s bag on the floor outside one of the stalls.

“Stan…?” Kyle approached the stall, his heart dropping--he’d braced himself to hear Stan retching, but instead the sounds that met his ears were more like… sobbing? “Stan, are you okay? Dude, I told you that you should’ve gone home if you weren’t feeling well--”

“I-I’m fine,” Stan quickly responded, though his voice sounded anything but. “Sorry, just… give me a sec, I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Kyle responded, opening Stan’s backpack and putting his brown paper bag lunch inside before closing the backpack back up and moving to lean against the wall next to the sinks as he waited.

Stan took a shaky breath, letting it out slowly before grabbing some toilet paper and doing his best to clean up his face. He honestly hadn’t meant to break down, but the realization that Kyle had given up on trying to defend himself--and the realization that he had _never even noticed_ that Kyle had given up, and the knowledge that he _never would have_ realized had Kyle himself not come back from the future and spelled it out for him--hit him hard enough that he really did feel nauseous for a short bit, until his dry heaving had turned to sobs.

Kyle had suffered so much, and it was all his fault. His Kyle and future Kyle, they both suffered because they felt like they were alone, because Stan was the worst friend in the history of all friends.

Pushing his negative thoughts aside (god, he wished he had some of his alcohol with him--though then again, he might have actually ended up puking if he did, so maybe alcohol wasn’t a good idea at the moment), Stan tried to focus on the positive things instead: namely, the fact that Kyle was here with him instead of sitting in the lunchroom and suffering through more of Cartman and Heidi’s bullying.

Once he’d managed to collect himself, Stan unlocked the stall and stepped outside, giving Kyle a weak smile when his friend looked at him in concern.

“Dude… seriously, what’s going on?” Kyle frowned as he stepped towards Stan. “You’ve been acting a bit off for a few days now. Did something happen?”

Stan did his best not to reflexively wince--he didn’t realize that Kyle had picked up on his changed behavior, though he supposed he should have expected it. After all, he _was_ purposely acting different than he’d been acting over the past few months (though the changes were for the better, so it wasn’t a _bad_ thing that he was changing his behavior), and Kyle always had been much more observant than him.

Still, it wasn’t like he could tell Kyle that he was acting differently because he was trying to prevent him from accidentally starting a war--not only because Kyle wouldn’t believe him, but also because Kyle might misunderstand and think he was just pretending to want to go back to being super best friends with him, when that was far from the case. If anything, future Kyle coming into his life was just the push Stan needed to stop acting like an idiot and get his act together enough to rekindle the best friendship he’d ever had--and ever would have--in his entire life before it was too late.

“Nothing happened,” Stan responded, but either he took too long to reply or something in his expression gave him away, because Kyle’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Stan… is there something you’re not telling me?”

“What? No!” Stan took a step back nervously, his mind scrambling for some way to get out of this without Kyle grilling him for information that he couldn’t give.

It was when he saw Kyle’s expression growing more irritated that Stan blurted out, “Let’s skip school!”

Kyle blinked, successfully distracted from his rising ire by the sudden suggestion. “What? Skip school? Dude, you know my mom would kill me--”

“If she asks, we can say I wasn’t feeling well and you went home with me so I didn’t have to walk alone.”

“... I don’t know…,” Kyle responded warily, but the fact that he was considering it was a good sign.

(The fact that he wasn’t angry anymore or asking Stan questions that he couldn’t answer was even better--but it wasn’t like Stan was manipulating Kyle, he wasn’t Cartman. He would never do that to his best friend. This was completely different, and not at all nauseating or filling him with guilt.)

“Would you rather go back to the lunch room and deal with Cartman and Cartman 2.0?” Stan added, knowing that he’d won the second Kyle’s expression turned annoyed.

“Yeah, you’re right. Screw them, let’s go.”

Stan smiled, hiding his relief as he bent down to pick up his backpack before swinging it onto his shoulder and turning to face Kyle.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

Sneaking past the hall monitors as they tried to make it to the school’s entrance felt like a game, and they both had to muffle their laughter behind their hands as they ducked out of view, the air around them feeling significantly lighter than before.

“Don’t worry, my lord, I’ll protect you from the evil hall monitors,” Stan whispered with a grin, brandishing an invisible sword.

Kyle grinned back at him, easily able to picture his friend in his warrior outfit and himself in his elf king outfit in his mind’s eye. “I know you will, my most faithful knight. You always do.”

Stan wasn’t sure if he was reading into it too much, but the trust in Kyle’s statement made his heart swell and his grin widen regardless.

“And I always will. I promise.”

* * *

Stan was practically skipping as he made his way towards Kenny’s house, his backpack bouncing against his back and a giddy smile on his face. It was the last night that future Kyle would be around, and though Stan was going to be sad to see him go, he couldn’t help but be elated by the knowledge that he’d not only managed to change the future (the fact that Kyle had neither shaved his hair nor began rallying people in a movement to get Terrance and Philip pulled off of the air were clear indicators that the future tragedies had been averted, according to future Kyle) but he’d also managed to fully rekindle his super best friendship. Skipping school the previous day had proven to be a wonderful spur of the moment decision, as it allowed him and Kyle to spend more time together having fun without Cartman or Heidi to ruin things, and today in school Kyle had actually told Heidi off in a ten minute long rant that, for once, left the girl speechless.

Stan would have hugged Kyle if he didn’t look like he was ready to punch someone.

Upon spotting Kenny’s house, he slowed his gait and glanced around warily, admittedly a bit hesitant to be on this side of town after dark--he already knew he’d get in trouble if his parents found out that he’d snuck out instead of going to bed, but if he got hurt while sneaking out he’d probably be grounded for a whole week. Maybe even two weeks.

Seeing future Kyle one more time was worth the risk, though.

Stan went over to the front door and knocked, waiting a minute before smiling as Kenny answered the door.

“Hey dude. Is, uh… is Kyle here?”

“Showing up to my house and asking for Kyle? That’s cold, man,” Kenny teased. “Yeah, he’s in my room. Hold on a sec, I’ll go get him.”

Stan watched Kenny head back inside, shifting from foot to foot impatiently and adjusting his bag on his back as he waited. As soon as he spotted Kyle walking towards him, he gave him a bright smile, contrasting with the confused look that Kyle gave him in return.

“Stan? Did something happen?”

“Well, you’re leaving tomorrow, right?” Stan began, not noticing Kyle’s flinch as he continued speaking. “I figured we could at least hang out a bit before you have to go.”

“Oh….” Kyle’s expression was unreadable, and for a moment Stan wondered if he’d made some sort of mistake by coming--but then Kyle smiled, and Stan felt his doubt quickly disappear as he smiled back. “Thank you. I’d… I’d love to spend my last night with you.”

Something about the way Kyle worded that bothered Stan, but he was distracted from figuring it out as Kyle stepped outside to join him and closed the door behind him.

“Mind if we just sit out here for a bit and talk? I don’t really feel comfortable inviting someone into someone else’s house,” Kyle added with a sheepish expression.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Stan responded with a reassuring smile as they sat down in front of Kenny’s house. He pulled his backpack off of his back and opened it up so he could pull out, to Kyle’s surprise, a bottle of brandy. “I know you probably don’t drink--and I know I shouldn’t, before you say anything--but I figured… well, one night couldn’t hurt, right? To celebrate changing the future and stopping a war?”

Kyle eyed the bottle warily for a moment before giving in with a weak laugh. “You know what? Why not. Might as well end the night with a bang.”

“That’s the spirit!” Stan laughed as well as he opened the bottle. “It’ll be a first time for both of us--your first drink, and my first time drinking for a happy reason.”

“Dude, that statement was way too heavy for a ten year old to say while laughing,” Kyle responded with a grimace.

“Says the kid that made a deal with Satan to stop a war from happening.”

“Touché.”

Stan opened the bottle and raised it in a toast. “To the future.”

He took a swig of the alcohol before passing the bottle to Kyle, who smiled sadly.

“... To the future,” he echoed, taking a sip of the liquid before grimacing and coughing. “Holy _shit_ , dude!”

Stan couldn’t help but burst out laughing at Kyle’s reaction, made funnier as Kyle proceeded to glare at him in obvious embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry, I just… that was the exact reaction I knew you’d have. Don’t force yourself to drink it if you can’t handle it, I won’t mind.”

Kyle huffed and stubbornly took another sip of the alcohol, grimacing as the liquid burned on the way down--but once he got past the knee-jerk reaction, it actually wasn’t too bad. At the very least, it was a good way to stave off the cold; he could already feel his body beginning to warm up.

Stan took the bottle back from Kyle and took another swig, smiling as he looked up at the night sky. “Y’know, weird as it is… I feel like this is something I could never do with Kyle. My time’s Kyle, I mean. Like… you two are still the same person, but you’re… I dunno, more mature? Not that my Kyle’s not mature, I just… I dunno, I feel like he’d chew my ear off about drinking myself into an early grave instead of joining me.”

Kyle smiled in amusement, taking the bottle as it was passed back to him and sipping a bit more of the brandy before responding. “Honestly, if this wasn’t my last night, I probably _would_ yell at you about drinking like this. I can kind of see what you’re saying, though--I’ve been through a lot more than your Kyle has, and it’s changed me, for better or for worse.” He handed the bottle back to Stan as he added, “I want to say I feel more like an adult, but honestly, I don’t know _what_ I am at this point.”

Stan shrugged. “Well, whatever you are, you’re still my super best friend, and that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Kyle smiled wistfully as he looked up at the sky. “That’s all that matters now.”

It could be said that only in a backwards town like South Park would two children spend the night sharing a bottle of alcohol while laughing and reminiscing about old times: adventures that toed the line between hilarity and insanity, things that people twice and thrice their age would never experience in their wildest dreams. Only the lights turning off in the house behind them reminded the two boys that time had not, despite what it felt like, stopped around the two of them, and Stan only just barely managed to pull out his phone without dropping it so he could check the time and bring the two super best friends back down to reality.

“... Aww shit, ‘s already ‘leven?” Stan grimaced. “I've gotta get home….”

“I… I'll walk you!” Kyle rose to his feet, stumbling a bit before regaining his balance.

Stan burst into giggles at the sight. “Dude… dude, you can’t even walk _yourself_.”

“I can-- I can _totally_ walk you!” Kyle insisted. “C’mon, I’mma… I’m gonna do it right now. There’s no more time, c’mon, hurry!”

Stan closed up the half-empty bottle and shoved it back into his backpack before standing up, taking a moment to make sure he had his balance before putting his bag onto his back and taking Kyle’s hand. “‘kay, let’s go.”

Kyle nodded in satisfaction and began walking, his brows furrowed in concentration as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over himself.

Apparently Stan found this hilarious as he started giggling again, which prompted laughter from Kyle as well until they couldn’t even remember what they were laughing about in the first place, their hands tightly clasped together as they half-walked, half-stumbled back to Stan’s house.

Thankfully, by the time they actually reached Stan’s house, the cold had sobered them up enough that they were able to sneak into his house and up to his bedroom without anyone noticing, prompting another round of muffled laughter once they were safely behind Stan’s closed and locked bedroom door.

Unfortunately, Kyle’s joy wasn’t meant to last: one glance at the clock caused his smile to immediately fade and the color to drain from his face.

_11:29 pm_

Stan didn’t notice Kyle’s expression until he finished stashing the half-empty bottle of brandy in his drawer, at which point his smile died down into a concerned expression.

“Kyle? Dude? You alright?” He grimaced as he added, “You’re not feeling sick, are you?”

“... Stan… there’s something I never told you.”

Stan’s brows furrowed as he took a step closer to Kyle. “What is it?”

“I….” Kyle finally shifted his gaze away from the clock and over to Stan, whose heart dropped as he saw tears in Kyle’s eyes. “I never actually told you what would happen to me on the 29th. You never asked, and I was fine with you just assuming that I’d go back to the future, but….”

“... You’re not going to go to the changed future? Wasn’t that the point of all of this?”

Kyle smiled sadly. “No, Stan. The point of all of this was to give the people I care about a better future, a future where they’re _alive_ and not involved in a war that never should have happened. It was never about me.”

Stan took another step closer to Kyle, feeling nauseous as he forced out, “So then… what’s going to happen to you?”

“... On the 29th… in about 30 minutes… I’m going to disappear.” Kyle tried to force back the tears that were burning his eyes as he spoke around the lump in his throat. “I’m going to fade out of existence. No future, no afterlife, nothing. It’s… it was the price I had to pay in order to give you all a future--and I was fine with it, I really was, I really am, I just….”

Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle, and Kyle could feel the last of his barriers crumbling away in turn, his tears beginning to flow in earnest as he clung to his best friend. “I’m scared… Stan, I don’t want to disappear! I’m finally home, I’m finally with my friends, I finally want to _live_ …!”

“God, Kyle….” Stan tightened his hug as he felt Kyle shaking, hardly even aware of the tears rolling down his own cheeks. “Why would you do that? Why would you give up your future?”

“Because I _had_ no future, not without you! Not without my family and my friends!” Kyle sobbed. “But now I have you, I have all of you, and I won’t get to see any of that future! I won’t get to graduate elementary school with you, I won’t get to have the bar mitzvah my mom always wanted to give me, I won’t get to go to middle school and high school and college, I won’t get to make new friends and go on dates and get married, I won’t get to do _anything_ …! _Your_ Kyle gets to experience all of that, and I… it’s not fair, it’s not _fair!_ I gave him the life I wanted, and I get nothing for it!”

“Kyle….” Stan didn’t know what he could possibly say to cheer up his friend--he hated seeing him so distraught, but considering how he was about to vanish out of existence in less than thirty minutes ( _11:33 pm_ , a quick glance at the clock showed him, which meant he had exactly twenty-seven minutes left), Stan wasn’t sure there was anything he _could_ say to make the situation better.

Kyle seemed to sense where Stan’s thoughts were headed as he quieted down and pulled back enough to move towards the bed, sitting down and pulling Stan to sit down with him. “... Can you talk to me? Just… talk about something happy, please.” Kyle leaned against Stan, feeling grateful as his friend continued to hold him close with no complaints.

Stan took a moment to collect himself before letting out a shaky breath and nodding with a watery smile. “Okay… okay, I can do that.”

And so Stan began to talk, trying his best to lighten the heavy air surrounding them as he recalled all the happiest memories and silliest stories he could scrounge up, things that would make Kyle smile and laugh (no matter how forced, no matter how much the laughter sounded like sobs), all the while glancing at the clock on his bedside table.

_11:41 pm_

“Oh, remember the first time we started calling each other super best friends, and we took turns kicking the fatass in the balls when he told us to get a room?”

_11:48 pm_

“--And you won’t _believe_ the _genius_ idea my dad had just last week, listen to this--”

_11:55 pm_

“... Stan…”

Stan immediately cut off what he was about to say when he heard Kyle speak, giving him his full attention.

“Stan, I… there’s something I’ve always wanted to do, something that I want to experience before I disappear.”

“What is it?”

Stan looked so ready to bend over backwards for him, like he would reach up and grab the moon out of the sky for Kyle here and now if he asked for it, that Kyle couldn’t help but tear up again.

“Stan, can you… kiss me?” Kyle asked tentatively, before quickly adding, “You can forget all about it afterwards, it doesn’t have to mean anything. I just… I’ll never get to know what it feels like to kiss someone that you love, and who loves you back. Even if it’s just as friends, I just… I just want to know what it’s like.”

Stan blushed lightly, caught off-guard by the request. “I… well, if that’s what you want, then of course. I mean, I _do_ love you, dude, even if it’s… y’know, as a super best friend, and not, well….”

Kyle smiled. “I know. I love you too, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t ask for a better friend either.” Stan grabbed Kyle’s hands and gave them a gentle squeeze as he looked into Kyle’s eyes, wishing with all his might that if nothing else, Kyle could carry this moment on with him. “We’ve been through lots of shit together, good and bad, and I really don’t think I would’ve gotten through even just half of it without you by my side. You mean the world to me, and I really do love you.”

“... Stan….”

Kyle’s tears began to overflow once more, and Stan reached out without thinking to wipe them away before glancing over at the clock, his heart dropping.

_11:58 pm_

Stan shifted his hand to cup the side of Kyle’s cheek, hearing his breath hitch and watching as the moonlight from the window hit Kyle just right, revealing his flushed, tear-streaked face as he stared back at him. They shifted closer to one another, slowly closing the small bit of distance between their bodies as they continued watching each other.

Neither of them dared to look at the clock.

_11:59 pm_

Stan’s gaze dropped down to Kyle’s lips, nerves and embarrassment warring with the desire to grant Kyle’s final request as he slowly leaned forward. Kyle’s eyes had already drifted closed as he waited, yet when their lips were a hair’s breadth apart, Stan nervously hesitated.

What if he accidentally threw up like he used to do with Wendy? What if Kyle didn’t like it? What if he ruined Kyle’s final moment by not living up to what he was expecting to feel from their kiss? What if--

_12:00 am_

There was a flash of light, and when Stan opened his eyes… Kyle was gone.


	2. Epilogue

****Stan knew it was going to happen--he didn’t want to believe it, but Kyle had just told him that it would happen, and there was no way he could not believe his super best friend when he had been crying so earnestly and shaking in fear. Knowing it would happen didn’t make it any easier to accept, though.

Especially not when he couldn’t even give Kyle the one thing he’d asked for before his time ran out.

Stan jumped off his bed and put on his shoes, not bothering with changing out of his pajamas or putting on a coat or his hat as he threw his bedroom window open and began climbing out.

He had to see Kyle. This time’s Kyle. _His_ Kyle. He had to make sure that he didn’t disappear too.

Muscle memory made the process of sneaking into Kyle’s backyard and climbing up to Kyle’s bedroom window easy despite not having done it in a long time, and within a few minutes he was knocking on Kyle’s window and holding his breath, praying that the universe wasn’t cruel enough to take his super best friend away after he finally fixed their relationship.

Kyle opened the window, his confused expression quickly turning to concern as he took note of Stan’s expression and lack of coat. He quickly moved aside without asking any questions, allowing Stan into his bedroom, and he barely had a chance to close the window after Stan climbed inside before the dark-haired boy pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Stan…?”

“You’re here.” Stan’s voice was barely a whisper, but the words reached Kyle’s ears regardless, further confusing and worrying the red-haired boy. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am, where else would I be?” Kyle asked, belatedly returning his friend’s hug and rubbing his back. “Did something happen?”

Stan took a shuddering breath before letting it out slowly. “... Yeah.”

Kyle waited for Stan to elaborate, but when he said nothing else, Kyle sighed and gently pulled Stan to sit on the bed with him. “Well, whatever happened, I’m sure everything will be fine.” He gave his friend a reassuring smile. “This is South Park, crazy shit happens all the time and it all goes back to normal in like a day. That’s always how it’s been.”

Stan’s expression seemed to crumple in on itself, which was the exact opposite of what Kyle had been trying to accomplish, but before Kyle could backpedal and try and amend whatever part of his statement had upset Stan, the dark-haired boy opened his mouth to speak.

“We didn’t go back to normal in a day.”

That caused any words Kyle had to immediately die on his tongue, his gaze dropping to the floor as he carefully contemplated what to say.

“... That’s true,” he cautiously began after a moment, “but that’s different. We… we were both at fault, and we both just kept making things worse instead of better--but things are different now. I can’t say that we’re back to ‘normal’, because we’ve both changed for better or worse, but I’d like to think that our friendship is stronger now… right?” The final part came out more tentatively than Kyle intended, but it seemed his words had the desired effect as Stan finally cracked a small smile.

“... Yeah. You’re right.”

Kyle was a bit surprised as Stan took his hand, before relaxing with a smile of his own as he lightly squeezed Stan’s hand in return.

“So maybe it takes a bit longer than a day sometimes, but everything turns out alright in the end, one way or another.” Kyle leaned against Stan. “Whatever happened… even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m sure it will be fine.”

Stan sighed. “It’s not that I want to keep it from you--”

“I know, dude, it’s okay,” Kyle quickly reassured him, giving his hand another light squeeze. “I think we both need to acknowledge that sometimes we have things that we don’t want to share with each other, super best friends or not. That’s totally normal, and I’m sorry if I came off as pushy yesterday when I kept asking you questions.”

“No, but really, I… I want to tell you, I just _can’t_.” Stan doubted the universe would fall apart if he told Kyle about everything, especially now that the future Kyle was… _gone_ , but he was still nervous to take that risk regardless.

Future Kyle had literally sacrificed his existence to make sure that everyone he loved and cared about could have a future of their own. The last thing Stan wanted to do was make his sacrifice be in vain just because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Kyle was silent for a moment, observing his best friend before finally nodding. “Then I won’t ask.”

Stan let out a sigh and closed his eyes, leaning heavily against Kyle. “Thank you… and I’m sorry.”

“Dude, I told you, it’s fine--”

Kyle cut himself off as he noticed the tears beginning to roll down Stan’s face, his sympathy and frustration warring inside of him--he knew that whatever was on Stan’s mind, whatever he _couldn’t_ tell Kyle, was eating away at his friend, and the fact that Stan wasn’t letting him help despite being obviously upset was beginning to make his irritation rise.

_No, stop it._ Kyle shook his head slightly, letting out a quiet breath as he forced the negative feelings away. _This is how our friendship started falling apart. Stan’s more emotional than I am, and I need to be more patient with him; I can’t just expect him to get over it because I said a few words to him._

With that thought in mind, Kyle shifted so he could pull his friend into another hug, running his fingers through his hair just like his mother would do for him to calm him down. It took hardly a second for Stan to cling to him in return, his tears turning to full-blown sobbing as he uttered broken apologies over and over again.

Kyle couldn’t help but wonder how much of the apologizing was really meant for him.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Stan looked up at him, and before he could so much as open his mouth to ask his friend if he was feeling a bit better, Stan’s lips were suddenly pressing against his own. It was completely unexpected, and Kyle could feel his face heating up in embarrassment, but he wasn’t exactly complaining--even if he didn’t understand what prompted the kiss, it wasn’t unpleasant by any means.

(It didn’t really help his already-muddled feelings for his super best friend, but he’d deal with that problem later.)

Stan pulled back after what felt like a second and an eternity all at once, his expression so bittersweet that Kyle felt his heart clenching without even understanding why.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do that sooner,” Stan murmured, and again Kyle got the feeling that his words were meant for someone else, despite him staring directly into his eyes.

Kyle was quick to squash the bitter feeling that threatened to rise up along with that thought, instead giving his friend a smile. “You know, you could have at least bought me dinner first, dude.”

Stan blinked, his gaze clearing as he was pulled from his thoughts, before he blushed as Kyle’s teasing accusation hit him. “Sor--”

“I swear to God if you apologize one more time I’m shoving you out my window,” Kyle threatened jokingly, and Stan laughed weakly in response.

“Alright, I’m not sorry, then.”

“Good.” Kyle nodded in satisfaction with a smile, though the expression quickly shifted into embarrassed confusion as Stan reached out and cupped the side of his face. “Stan?”

“I’m not sorry,” he repeated, his expression softening. “I’m not sorry for kissing you. I’m not sorry for fixing things between us. The only thing I’m sorry for is taking so long to do it.”

_I’m sorry I hesitated and held myself back, right until the end. I’ll never make that mistake again._

Kyle felt his face heating up as he realized Stan was being serious--that kiss hadn’t been an impulse he was going to joke about or brush off, it was something that he did on purpose.

“.. Well… better late than never?” Kyle responded with a tentative smile that grew as Stan laughed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Better late than never.”

It seemed that showing a little bit of patience was paying off, as the heavy air in the room gradually began to ease into a more comfortable atmosphere, and Kyle found himself relaxing even as Stan gently pulled him down to lay on Kyle’s bed together.

“You know, you’ve got to go home at some point,” Kyle said quietly, hardly even noticing as their hands found each other once more until he felt Stan’s hold on him tighten just the slightest bit.

“I… I know, I just… I want to stay with you for a little longer,” Stan replied, his face flushing in embarrassment even as he held his friend's gaze. “Can I stay a few more minutes?”

Kyle’s expression softened, and he hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Stan’s in a quick kiss that left them both blushing heavily. “A few minutes won’t hurt, I guess.”

Stan smiled and Kyle returned the gesture, the two of them shifting closer until their foreheads were touching as they simply enjoyed being with one another, taking comfort in each other’s presence without any words needing to be said.

There was no more worrying about bullying, or poor decisions, or future wars, or people dying, or anything, not anymore. Here and now, there was only Stan and Kyle, two friends pulled apart by the flow of time and pushed back together through a fateful opportunity that could only ever happen in somewhere as crazy as South Park.

Anything that happened from here on out, any problems or adversaries that they faced, Stan and Kyle would do it together--just like super best friends should.


End file.
